


Letters from Spain

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angry Son Yuri Plisetsky, Canon Universe, Fluff, M/M, Parents Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov, Podium Family, Road Trips, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: Victor Nikiforov is determined to give his fiance Yuuri Katsuki the best vacation ever. But, of course, how could they go without Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin?A collection of short ficlets leading up to the main fic that will be published in the zine Terra Incognita 2.0: Part 2 of Unknown Land: A Yuri on Ice fanzine about traveling and social media.





	1. At the Airport

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are with another road trip fic! (Or, technically, collection of ficlets.) Aren't road trips great?

Airports are odd places. You’re neither here nor there. You’re in a limbo between places. You wait for your flight and every minute of waiting seems to go on forever.

There is a man over there reading his book. A woman is taking a nap. Someone is eating a sandwich. And little children are hopping around like mad everywhere…

 

Victor smiled at Yuuri as they headed for their gate. He knew Pulkovo Airport really well. Knew it well before its recent renovation and knew it well as it was now.

There used to be a gate with a little store in the corner where a lady sold all sorts of souvenirs to people who forgot to get one, or hadn’t had the chance to grab something. He hadn’t seen it since.

Now Pulkovo was brand new and sparkling, full of boutiques and restaurants. But old habits die hard and he packed food for their journey, just like his mother used to do oh-so-many years ago.

 

_“I made you some sandwiches, Viten’ka. And I cut up a few apples. Don’t forget to eat them, please,” Victor’s mother said and kissed him on the forehead. “Promise me you’ll eat everything I made for you.”_

_He nodded. He was almost at the age when he’d find her attentions annoying and embarrassing. Almost. “Thank you, mama.”_

_“And win that gold! Sorry your father and I couldn’t come this time. We’ll cheer you on from home!” She kissed him again. “And don’t forget to call me when as soon as your plane lands!”_

_“I will,” he promised._

He smiled at the memory now.

Yuuri turned and caught the smile. He returned it without thinking. “What are you smiling about?”

“Just looking forward to our trip, Yurochka.” He watched Yuuri blush and went on, “I promise you the best holiday ever! It will be perfect, you’ll see.”

Yuuri nodded and Victor put an arm around him.

“Honestly! We leave you for two minutes and you get so lovey-dovey it’s disgusting!” a loud voice cut in. “Do you ever remember that other people exist, or is that too hard for you?”

Victor released Yuuri and turned to smile at the other Yuri, who stood with his arms folded over his chest. Otabek was by his side, giving them an apologetic look.

No, not even Yuri’s anger would ruin their perfect vacation together. Nothing would, Victor would make sure of it.


	2. A Deck of Cards

The four of them sat at the airport gate, trying to figure out what to do next.

“I have a deck of cards,” Otabek volunteered after a while.

“Great! Let’s play a game!” Yuri exclaimed, turning around in his seat.

“I don’t know any card games,” Yuuri admitted. He’d seen the looks the other skaters had exchanged as soon as Otabek mentioned cards. He couldn’t help thinking that they all had a specific game in mind.

As if to prove him right, Victor shifted towards him in his seat. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

The rules were simple enough and Yuuri got the hang of it quickly. Until someone did something that was maybe wrong and an argument broke out.

“That’s the way I always play it,” Otabek told them with a shrug, as if to say he was willing to undo his move if people got too upset.

Victor said something about the wrong version of the game and the next minute there was a heated argument between Victor and Yuri.

With a sigh Yuuri reclined in his seat and caught Otabek’s eye. He didn’t know enough about the game to join the argument and didn’t favour either side anyway. He opened his mouth to interject and changed his mind.

“I’m going for a walk,” he declared and rose to his feet.

The argument cut off abruptly and evaporated. Yuri and Victor exchanged a look. “We’ll talk about this later,” their looks seemed to suggest.

“Can I come with you?” Victor asked, getting up.

Yuuri nodded. How could he have said no?

They walked around the shops, trying things on and taking silly pictures of each other. The vacation had barely started and already they had several dozen photos of themselves all over Instagram.

“I wish they’d let us board already,” Yuuri admitted with a sigh, returning a hat to its stand. “It’s bad enough that we don’t have a direct flight, but…”

“Attention passengers on flight to Amsterdam –”

“That’s our flight!” Victor exclaimed.

“– your flight will be delayed by 30 minutes.”

Luckily they had three hours between their flights, so there was still hope they wouldn’t miss their connection. Yuuri sighed. “Let’s go back.”

Victor smiled at him and put an arm around Yuuri. “Don’t worry: we can still make it.”

Yuuri did his best to return the smile. They hadn’t even boarded the plane, but already Yuuri wanted this part of their trip to be over.

He and Victor returned to their seats and Yuuri waited for someone to bring up the game again, but they all acted as if they’d forgotten all about it.

“I packed some food for us to eat,” Victor finally said. “Is anyone hungry?”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Yuri grumbled.

There was something endearing about Yuri wolfing down the food Victor had prepared, his hair getting in his way and crumbs covering his face. Yuuri watched him with a smile before rummaging in his bag for the hair clips he usually carried. Forgetting this was the ice tiger of Russia (who’d once threatened to bite a skater’s finger off), Yuuri reached out and clipped Yuri’s hair back and out of the way.

Realizing what he’d just done, he flushed and sat back, waiting for Yuri to explode.

Yuri gave a grunt and went on eating.

Victor handed Yuuri a sandwich like some sort of prize. They exchanged a smile. Yuuri stared down at the sandwich and then at the food Yuri was eating. Trust Victor to make sandwiches with his favourite filling just for him!

He whispered a thank you and ate.

For the tiniest fraction of a second he caught an expression on Victor’s face he didn’t often see and then the smile was back like a shield. Victor was tired. He’d gotten up early that morning to get all the food prepared. It was late afternoon now, melting into the evening.

Yuuri finished the sandwich and reclined against the back of his seat. “You must be exhausted,” he said. “Why don’t you take a nap while we wait? I’ll wake you up when the boarding starts.”

He waited for Victor to make a joke or for him to say that he was fine, but Victor’s head dropped onto his lap and he fell asleep almost right away. He really was very good at sleeping in any conditions.

Yuuri lowered one hand onto Victor’s head with a smile.

“Gross!” Yuri mumbled. “I’d push him off and let him sleep on the ground, if I were you. I bet it won’t even wake him up.” He scoffed and went on eating.

Yuuri turned bright red as the reality of the situation hit him. Here he was, waiting for his flight, with Victor Nikiforov asleep with his head on his lap.

But he didn’t push Victor off like Yuri had suggested. He just stayed absolutely still and watched over Victor’s sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm up for requests, if you have any. Just keep in mind that these are the canonical versions of the characters and that this fic will keep its G rating.


	3. Your Autograph Please

At Yuri’s request (when they’d checked into their flight together not like a family, not at all) he and Otabek got to sit several rows away from Yuuri and Victor, which Yuuri thought was completely unnecessary, since Victor slept through most of the flight, clinging on to Yuuri and using his shoulder as a pillow.

A little girl ran by, screaming in delight. She stopped next to them and gave both skaters a big smile.

Was Victor still asleep or did the screams wake him up?

Before Yuuri could check Victor sat up with a smile of his own. He didn’t look like someone who’d just spent several hours at an airport and was now flying in an airplane. He didn’t have that slightly messy and dazed look of someone stuck in one seat for too long. His hair was dishevelled, true, but there was something artistic about the way it was dishevelled, as if he’d paid a lot of money to a hair stylist to dishevel it for him. It was perfect, and just so _unfair_.

“Hello!” Victor said. “Are you lost?”

The girl giggled and then her eyes went wide in surprise. “Hey! I know you!” she exclaimed, sticking her hand out and pointing.

 _Here we go again,_ Yuuri thought and did his best to nod along. _Yes, this is Victor Nikiforov…_

“My mom is a big fan!” she exclaimed. “She watches _all_ your competitions!” She rolled her eyes at the word “all”.

Victor chuckled. “I’m very grateful –” he began, the usual response ready to go at the sight of an enthusiastic fan.

But the girl kept going, ignoring him completely, “My mom has a T-shirt with your face on it and these _big_ letters with your name on it!” She waved her arms at the word “big” and giggled. Then, much to their surprise, she climbed onto Victor’s lap to stand on his knee and beam at Yuuri. “Can I have your autograph for my mom, please?”

Yuuri’s eyes went wide. “M-mine? Really?” he asked.

The girl nodded with a giggle.

He was suddenly very conscious of the fact that Victor was watching him. After enough blunders with his fans he learned to change his attitude towards them.

 _What would Victor do?_ he asked himself.

He flattened his hair down self-consciously, suddenly very aware of every crease in his clothing from sitting in one spot for too long. “U-um yes, of course,” he found a pen and a notepad and signed it, asking her for her mother’s name.

She giggled and jumped off Victor’s knee, her prize in her hands. The little girl was about to run off when a woman who could only be her mother appeared.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “I hope my daughter wasn’t…” she trailed off and blushed. “ _Yuuri Katsuki_! Oh my god!”

She stood, completely speechless. There was no knowing how long she would have stood there, her mouth opening and closing, if her daughter hadn’t spoken up.

“Mommy, I got you Yuuri’s autograph. Look!” she held up the piece of paper and her mother lowered her eyes with a lost look on her face.

“You did…” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“It was easy,” her daughter reassured her with a shrug. “Now getting Yuri Plisetsky’s autograph will be much harder, because _obviously_ I will never just stumble into him.” She ran off happily.

Her mother followed after her, lost for words.

“Well!” Victor exclaimed.

Yuuri felt his ears burn. “Oh, Victor, I’m so s–”

“It’s always the same with you,” Victor interrupted, “your fans just follow you everywhere. I guess this is what I get for being engaged to a celebrity.” He gave Yuuri a sly smile.

Yuuri lowered his eyes. “I guess…” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering where the other updates are, you can blame the fact that I've been watching figure skating for the past week. Research, right? Haha
> 
> Anyway, here's hoping the other fics will be updated soon!


	4. Midnight in Madrid

After two flights and all the waiting around in two airports it was a relief to finally arrive in Madrid.

They had a few days in the city itself before their trip started. Seeing how exhausted Victor was, Yuuri was glad they had some time to rest before the long drive.

Victor gave Yuuri a sleepy smile. Normally he had no trouble sleeping on a flight (or anywhere, really), but not this time around, for some reason. This time he couldn’t sleep and all the jetlag was catching up with him.

Yuuri himself was exhausted, but he did his best to stay alert and awake.

It was evening by the time they checked into their hotel.

Yuuri let Victor take a shower first as he wondered what to do about dinner.

Ten minutes later Victor came out, looking as fresh as if he’d just had a full night’s sleep and smiled at Yuuri as he dried his hair. “Dinner?”

“I was thinking maybe we should order something,” Yuuri said.

“That’s no fun! Let’s enjoy the Madrid nightlife!” Victor offered, sitting down next to Yuuri on the bed and putting a hand on one of his shoulders and his chin on the other.

“Wh-what about Yuri and Otabek?” Yuuri asked, blushing.

“They’re old enough to figure something out for themselves,” Victor reassured him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “So what do you say to a night out? Just the two of us?”

 

There was something very intimate about dressing for a date with your date in the room with you. They both tried to dress as discreetly from each other as being in a small room with only one bathroom allowed and both did their best to act as if the other person was elsewhere. If Yuri had been there he would’ve, without a doubt, called them both idiots.

Only when they were both done were they allowed to look at each other. Victor was in something that, even if it hadn’t been fashionable, would’ve become fashionable as soon as he put it on. And even if there was someone who would say “really, it’s just a shirt and a pair of pants!” Yuuri would’ve argued with them. He’d seen the price tag when they picked it out one day during a shopping trip. There was something formal about Victor’s appearance, making him look like a man who’d just stepped out after a day of work for a drink with a friend, or his fiancé. He was just missing the tie and jacket.

Yuuri, on the other hand, dressed exactly like someone about to go out on a date: he was in a pair of tight black pants and a loose white top that had a big opening at the back, and – what was worse, or perhaps better – most of the fabric of which was just a little see-through.

Victor swallowed nervously and held out his arm. “Shall we?”

It was a wonderfully warm night, the kind made just for dates, the kind when you want to lean on someone’s arm, or slip into a hidden corner of the city, pick a spot in the moonlight and steal a long and passionate kiss.

They watched each other as they pretended they were picking a restaurant for dinner. A good half hour passed and still they couldn’t settle on anything. They walked through several squares full of tourists and passed more than one statue of someone famous.

Yuuri stopped, closed his eyes and breathed the warm summer air in. He gave a dreamy sigh and a smile spread over his face. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” he whispered, looking into Victor’s eyes.

“Hm?” _God, he’s so beautiful tonight!_

“It doesn’t matter where we eat,” Yuuri explained.

Victor pulled him closer and chuckled softly into his ear.

 

After dinner in the most picturesque restaurant Victor could find – because he was Victor Nikiforov and, so there was no way he would settle on something subpar for his dear Yuuri – he wanted to do something else.

Yuuri suggested that going to sleep early was a good idea, but Victor shook his head. “No, no, on a night like this you can’t sleep. It’s a crime to sleep now.”

He watched Yuuri blush and mumble something that sounded like “there are other things too, I suppose” and smiled.

He reclined in his seat as the waiter showed up with a bill. “Tell me,” Victor said, “are there any clubs nearby? Somewhere we can go dancing?”

The waiter smiled and gave them directions as Victor paid for the food. He then had to draw a little map out for them, because Victor was forced to admit that none of the directions had sunk in. Yuuri was too distracting for Victor to focus on anything else for very long.

The instructions in his pocket, they walked out arm in arm.

“Dancing?” Yuuri asked Victor softly.

“I’m sorry, dear Yuuri, you must be tired after all that,” Victor said, remembering himself.

There was a playful spark in Yuuri’s eye. He must’ve seen the way Victor was watching him all dinner long. “I’m not too tired to take Victor Nikiforov on, on the dancefloor,” he whispered dangerously.

Victor felt his knees tremble, but kept the smile on his face. “You’re on.”

 

There was a new pair at the club. Afterwards people asked each other if anyone knew where they’d come from, but no one seemed to know the answer to that question. Maybe they’d come out of the pages of a magazine, someone had joked. One of them was very tall, very blond and very, very handsome. The other one had the sort of appearance that at first glance you brushed off, but at second glance caught you and wouldn’t let you go. He was dark-haired and almost as tall as his companion. There was a big fight afterwards over which of the two was better-looking.

They’d arrived arm in arm and it took only one glance to see how enamoured they were with each other. They didn’t stop to chat, or to get drinks, but headed straight for the dancefloor.

Two minutes later they were the only ones dancing. Everyone else moved out of their way to watch.

The blond man moved gracefully, almost delicately, smiling at his partner, not taking his eyes off him for a second.

The dark-haired man led with a confidence that kept everyone’s attention focused on him. If there had been any sort of break in their dancing (and there wasn’t, because somehow they were at it for an hour and a half without stopping for breath) and any hint that they were open to dancing with someone else, people would’ve begged on their knees for one dance with him.

But, no, they were only interested in each other. It didn’t matter where they were, or what music was playing, all that mattered was the dance. It was the dance equivalent of a large sign with flashing neon letters saying “I love you”. One of them led, yes, and the other followed with a look of pure adoration, but it could just as easily have been the other way around. And it mattered very little who watched.

The dark-haired man twirled the other man around and dipped him as another song ended. In the complete silence that followed, he leaned in for a kiss and everyone clapped.

The blond man raised his hands and pulled them through his dance partner’s hair. Something flashed on his ring finger and in that moment everyone understood.

_Newlyweds, of course!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case someone gets confused by the last sentence (since I call them fiances in the other ficlets/chapters of this series): in this fic they are fiances, but the audience assumes that they're newlyweds.


End file.
